"Uwaaaaaah!"
"Move! Keep moving without rest!"
"Never stand directly in front of it!"
"You damned son of a bitch! Kuaaak!"
The soldiers were, in the truest sense, fighting a desperate battle. They were fighting as if in a frenzy against monsters they normally wouldn't even be able to face one on one. If they stopped for even a moment, those savage fangs, those sharp claws might tear them to death.
Under the soul-shaking pressure of real combat, the soldiers were struggling beyond their limits.
"Keoheoeong!"
However, no matter how much they armed themselves with mental fortitude and struggled, in the end, they could not overcome the wall of reality. One soldier finally failed to withstand an attack and fell backward, finding himself in peril.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
Seeing the gaping maw of the Werewolf lunging toward his fallen self, the soldier screamed and turned his gaze away. But in that instant...
"Kiyaing!"
With a flash of light, Patrick, who had kicked the Werewolf in the head, spoke.
"You're dead now. Soldier A." "It's Oliver."
"Is that important? When you're already dead?"
Oliver lowered his head under Patrick's pathetic gaze. Patrick watched from behind, entrusting the monsters to the soldiers until the very last, thrilling moment. Only when the soldiers were pushed to the brink of death did he finally offer his help.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, even a neighborhood mutt would understand by now. Huh? So why can't a human brat get it?"
"..."
"I told you to move in time with the opponent's attacks, didn't I? Why are you getting scared first and hopping around? Are you a rabbit?"
"No, that's..."
"Unnecessary movements lead to exhaustion of stamina, exhaustion of stamina leads to defeat, and defeat leads to death. You want to die? Should I kill you? Huh?"
"I'm sorry."
Although every rescue was followed by a festival of nagging, so far, no one had died. Even though it seemed like each of them had nearly died dozens of times. What was most infuriating was that every word of Patrick's nagging was correct.
In the next battle, when they paid attention to the points Patrick had made, they could tell they had improved, even by their own assessment. In other words, that stinging nagging that poured out until their ears bled was all correct.
"But still, the opponent is a Werewolf, what am I supposed to do?"
"..."
"You fight. You win."
"..."
"What's with that look? That 'this son of a bitch is talking so big because it's not his problem' look full of complaint?"
"N-no, sir."
"Hmm, it looks like it is, are you sure it's not?"
"No, sir."
Patrick, who had been staring intently at the denying Oliver, nodded and spoke.
"Alright. Then continue."
"Pardon?"
"A few more are coming over there. Try not to make a mistake this time."
"But I just barely escaped death?"
"If you didn't die, that's what matters."
"..."
"..."
"Remember, you must read the opponent's breath and timing. A battle is not something you do alone. Observe your opponent well."
"..."
"Fighting!"
Watching Patrick cheer him on with the bright smile unique to a ten year old child, Oliver thought. 'I hate this bastard more than the monsters.' ** There is no better training than real combat.
That was Patrick's firm belief from his past life. In reality, a single spar was more helpful than a hundred days of training, and a single real battle was more helpful than ten spars. In the end, the truth Patrick had realized through his own body was that to become stronger, one must experience as many real battles as possible.
And based on that truth, as a result of harshly grinding down the soldiers...
"Hey. Do it properly."
"What are you doing? Are you dancing?"
"That's not the step the young master taught us... Ah, this is driving me crazy. What are you doing falling over!?"
The soldiers who had faced the monsters following Patrick grew stronger quite quickly. During sparring time, they overwhelmed the other soldiers, and the gap in their skills widened more and more as time passed.
"Hey, I am doing it properly, aren't I?"
"You have to move properly without being all limp."
"That's what I'm doooing!?"
"Nah, you're not. An opening here, an opening here too. Here too... Hey, I told you to do it properly?"
"You son of a bitch, Soldier Aaaa!"
"It's Oliver."
Those who had trained in the Five Elements Steps in real combat and understood its effectiveness had certainly improved their proficiency to an amazing degree. They easily handled the other soldiers with whom they originally had little difference in skill. In Sanson's case, he showed himself lightly overwhelming five soldiers at once in a spar.
"Good. That's enough, everyone rest!"
At Patrick's command, most of the soldiers collapsed right where they stood. However, the soldiers who had experienced real combat, including Sanson, still seemed energetic, gathering amongst themselves to cool down.
"Captain. A moment ago, when you fell back, you extended your sword forward to keep the enemy in check. Was that something you always did?"
"No, I learned it by asking the young master."
"Ah... then what if the enemy...."
"..."
Seeing them like that, the other soldiers couldn't help but feel something. A clear difference in skill had emerged. Sanson was one thing, but the other soldiers had been no different from them, yet now, a definite gap in skill had opened up.
What was the reason for this result, despite having spent the same time in the same space? How seriously did they believe in and follow Patrick's teachings? That one thing alone created the difference between them.
In fact, they knew it too.
"It seems that step the young master taught us is no ordinary thing."
"Should we try to do it a little more properly?"
"Honestly, the young master isn't someone who would teach us something useless, right?"
"That's right. He even replaced all our weapons and armor this time."
"Mmm. I was a liiittle grateful."
"Yeah. Not a lot, just a liiittle."
"As much as an ant's eye booger."
The soldiers were speaking like this, but their loyalty towards Patrick had risen greatly. He had gotten rid of Brian, who had been embezzling and acting tyrannically, for their sake, taught Aura Blessing to them who were mere soldiers, and this time, he had earned money and replaced all their old weapons and armor.
To not know gratitude after all this would be inhuman. It was just that they had been beaten up too much to express their respect purely, so they couldn't say it out loud.
"Let's do this properly. If we follow what the young master tells us to do without suspicion, we can become stronger too."
"Mmm. Right. We have to become knights. The young master said he would make us knights."
"Right. And I don't care about Sir Sanson or the others, but I can't stand that punk Oliver acting all high and mighty."
"Oliver?"
"I mean Soldier A." "Ah, right. I forgot his real name for a moment."
"Anyway, when that bastard acts all cocky and smug, something just boils up inside me."
"Ah, I agree with that."
"More than losing, I can't stand the smug words coming out of that mouth of his."
"Let's kill him."
Oliver had established himself as the official nuisance among the fief's soldiers, but unfortunately, his skill itself was in the upper ranks among them. In any case, the soldiers were now finally beginning to trust Patrick's teachings in earnest. Patrick, who was resting far away, could hear all of the soldiers' words.
'The brats are finally starting to listen to reason.' In his past life, there were droves of people who came to him with bags of money just to learn a single move from him. Well, they all regretted it afterward, but in any case, it was like that.
But in this world, even when he offered to teach for free, looking at these brats who questioned, 'Is this right? Is this useful?', just made him feel so... 'I felt like I should just separate all their bones and flesh.
Ah, just thinking about it makes me mad again.' It was a matter that made Patrick sigh, but what could he do? The way he taught was too different from the existing common sense of this world.
From the perspective of this world's general common sense, it would seem very strange. So, it was inevitable that they would doubt Patrick. But Patrick taught them silently, and a few soldiers, including Sanson and Oliver, were finally beginning to show results.
Sanson held his own against a Troll by himself, and Oliver and the others were now able to fight to some extent against monsters they wouldn't have even dared to face in the past. Their appearance served as a stimulus and motivation for the other soldiers.
That spirit would spur them on in their training and lead to a full-fledged increase in their skills. 'The framework is finally in place.
Finally...'
There had been more than one or two times on this journey where he thought, 'Should I just cut all these bastards loose and do it alone?', but it was a good thing he didn't. 'It would be really great if just one talented genius appeared right now.' That part was a bit regrettable.
If just one person with true genius-level talent or physique appeared in this atmosphere, he could use that person as a focal point to pull up the entire group. The existence of a genius, by its very nature, serves as a milestone for those around them.
Patrick was too far ahead to be that milestone, and honestly, Sanson was not that kind of existence. 'Well, Sanson may not be a genius, but he's the most outstanding among them and is at least a hard-working prodigy. If I raise him well, he'll still play his part.'
As Patrick was thinking that, "Young master. I need you to come for a moment."
"What is it?"
"A doctor who came to the fief is saying that one of the children is cursed."
"What?"
"The fief's residents are scared by what the doctor is saying. The doctor says that if the child is not driven out, a disaster will befall us..."
"What kind of novel bullshit is this!?"
Patrick shouted as he shot up from his seat.
Doctors were quite a high-class profession in this world. For people who fell ill, the most effective treatment was from priests, but the donations to the temple were extremely expensive. It was called a donation, but at the point where they wouldn't treat you if you didn't pay, it wasn't a donation.
So, for commoners without money, when they got sick, they couldn't even dream of going to a temple. The alternative they chose was a doctor. In truth, they were more like apothecaries, and most of their treatment relied on prescribing medicine, but poor people often couldn't afford even that.
Patrick had told Red to send several such doctors to the fief. He intended to have the fief's residents get check-ups while they were examining the children's health. But one of those doctors had suddenly caused a problem.
"Therefore, this child is cursed. Not even a high priest, let alone a doctor like me, can save this child if they were to come."
The doctor was passionately exclaiming as he looked at the child lying on the sickbed, on the verge of death. The child was one of the orphans Patrick had brought this time, and was particularly sick.
Lying down all day, with nothing but skin and bones left on his body, the child couldn't even lift food to his own mouth without someone's help. Because his condition was the most critical, Lawrence had shown this child to the doctor first.
And as soon as the doctor examined the child, he was startled and shouted to the people around that the child was cursed, and now he was saying that if the child was not exiled, disaster would befall the others as well. In front of such a doctor, the butler Lawrence frowned and spoke.
"Stop spreading strange rumors with your baseless conjecture. A curse? How long has it been since black mages disappeared from the world? Does that make any sense?"
But the doctor was also adamant.
"This is a curse. It is a famous curse among us doctors."
"Hah... there's no talking to you."
"If left like that, his whole body will turn cold and he will die, and after that, he will spread poison in all directions, harming even healthy people."
"What ridiculous nonsense? Are you even a doctor?"
"Are you a doctor then? Are you?"
"..."
The doctor threw a fit and spoke to Lawrence.
"If you are suspicious, touch the child's body. You will surely feel that it is as cold as ice."
Lawrence glared at the doctor and placed his hand on the child's emaciated body. Then, he was startled. 'How can a person's body be this cold?'
Even a corpse, whose blood had completely cooled after death, would not be this cold. This was a coldness like touching frozen ice in the middle of winter. To such a Lawrence, the doctor spoke as if to say 'See?'.
"There you see. Am I not right?"
"..."
"Would I, a doctor, tell you to kill a perfectly fine person? It is the decision of a doctor to sacrifice the few to save the many."
"Mmm..."
"Listen to me and abandon that child. It is not too late yet."
At the doctor's words, Lawrence groaned. Honestly, he didn't believe in curses, but it was true that the child's physical condition was not normal. And above all...
"A curse?"
"What do we do? He says it's a curse?"
"If a disaster comes to our fief..."
Watching the fief residents murmuring in anxiety, Lawrence frowned. 'This is not good.' To put it nicely, the fief residents were simple; to put it as it was, they were ignorant.
Curses could only be cast by black mages or demons. This was the official announcement from the temple, and falsely accusing and executing innocent people as witches or minions of the devil was strictly forbidden in the temple's name. That was already hundreds of years ago.
But the people of this innocent, rural fief didn't know that and were merely harboring a vague fear at the word 'curse'. 'What should I do? Should I drive the doctor out?
But most of the villagers haven't been examined yet...' Seeing the conflicted Lawrence, the doctor spoke as if driving a wedge.
"I am not saying this out of ill will. As a doctor, I am doing the right thing, knowing I will be hated, in order to save people."
"......"
"Please, exile that child. That is for the sake of this fief... Uwaaaak!"
Baaang!
The doctor, who was speaking with a serious expression, was sent flying by a powerful kick to his side. There was only one person in this fief who would do such a thing.
"Are you the one? The quack bastard who was spouting nonsense about a curse?"
"Y-young master."
Patrick was there.